Before coming to college, I spent an entire summer dreading the move from my happy house into what seemed like a cell of a dorm room. Measuring in at a staggering 12 by 14 feet, I was less than excited to spend the next nine months in the tiny box. When the time did come to move in, my roommate, Kristin, and I did our best to decorate it and make it feel like ours-little did we know how many memories could be held in this 12 by 14 foot home.

Going to a big school is overwhelming, and Kristin and I are lucky to go to one of the biggest. With over 64,000 classmates and more than four square miles of campus to negotiate; we were in over our heads at the start. So to begin, coming back to our tiny home after an exhausting day of navigating our school and learning where our classes were, was more than welcomed. As the year went on, the room began to feel more and more like where we were supposed to be. I found myself missing my dorm on the rare occasion I made it home to my family-my dorm had all of my things and as much as I miss my family when I am gone, my small hometown is no longer home. Room 950 serves it's purpose in being my transition home while I establish a real place to belong in the giant city that I plan on spending the next several years, as well as not overwhelming me with the fact that I no longer really live with my parents.

Our room has been home to a lot of laughter as we become the spot for many of the friends on our floor would come to spend time. This tiny room held all 15 people that threw me a surprise party for my first birthday away from home. It was where Kristin and I broke all of our parents' rules and ate ice cream for breakfast and where we learned why there were rules about eating ice cream for breakfast. It has been our home gym- less than we care to admit- while we did crunches before bed in last stitch efforts to look good for Oval Beach. It was our home office where we (I) procrastinated with the best of them, turning in papers literally moments before their midnight deadlines. The room was my hospital while I spent a week in bed with the flu-my first real sickness away from my mom. This room has held the tears of switching my major, a break up, a failed test (or two) and missing our families when whole months go by without seeing them. The desks are the sites of homework completion, faces made up in preparation for a night out and sometimes just the first place we saw fit to collapse after coming in from a particularly brutal day. The once bare walls hold strings of lights, canvases made by us or the people we love, and the countless pictures we have taken over the course of this school year.

So at a school that boasts of over 70,000,000 square feet, we were lucky to have 168 just for us. To the girls that have our room next year, this small room is so much more than just the shipping address for the packages your parents will send you. Enjoy your time in room 950 and go Bucks.